


What's Mine is Mine

by ravenclawkward



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, First Time, Jaskier x OMC is blink and you miss it, Jealous Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Kissing, M/M, Oral Sex, Possessive Behavior, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-29
Updated: 2020-01-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:54:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22470613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ravenclawkward/pseuds/ravenclawkward
Summary: Geralt comes upon Jaskier in a compromising situation and jealousy reigns.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion/Original Character(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 225





	What's Mine is Mine

The tavern was loud, as they often are, with raucous yelling and coarse laughter. The tone of the room was starting to get ugly, and Geralt decided it was time to make a tactful retreat. He set about locating Jaskier so they could leave, moving silently through the crowds, eyes roving the room in vain. 

Finally he turned a corner to a side hallway, but the scene Geralt walked in one was not one he had been expecting. 

It took his eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness of the unlit hall, but when they did they lighted upon the familiar form of Jaskier in his blue doublet, pressed against another form and blocking them from view. Fully prepared to interrupt, he was about to speak when he saw what precisely the bard was up to—and more importantly, who he was up to it with. 

Jaskier was kissing along the stubbled jawline of a tall, fair haired man whose hands were roving Jaskier’s backside. Geralt could see the clenching of his hands, squeezing that pert flesh. There was a distinct movement to their hips, the man’s grip bringing their fronts together over and over. Most troubling, however, was Jaskier’s stuttering breath and shushed moans that Geralt could hear clear as day. 

_ He’s enjoying this,  _ Geralt thought to himself, and somehow it was a revelation. He knew that Jaskier had his dalliances with all manner of off limits women, but it had been theoretical. If he did think about it, he pictured it more as a play act than anything. But this, this was Jaskier coming undone. At the hands of a man. 

Geralt tried to classify the feeling rising in him, and was disconcerted to find that jealousy was the primary culprit.  _ He _ wanted to be the one making Jaskier make those sounds, to finally find what could make the bard stop talking and come apart. Of course he had noticed the bard’s attractiveness, those piercing blue eyes and his nimble hands, the debauched way he poses, seemingly without knowing. But until now, he hadn’t connected it with something he could have.

Geralt wasn’t pleased at the raspy timber of his voice when he finally interrupted. “Jaskier, it’s time to go.” He pointedly averted his eyes from the startled pair as he made a quick retreat to calm himself in the cool air outside the tavern. 

When Jaskier finally pulled the door shut behind himself, cheeks still flushed and clothes in mild disarray, Geralt took off at a brisk clip toward the inn they made arrangements at earlier in the evening. Jaskier rushed to keep up, muttering a litany of curses about bad timing. 

Geralt managed to avoid speaking or even looking at the bard until they were confined in their room at the inn. He really hadn’t thought this through; he should have just left Jaskier to find his own way back and basked in the blessed silence for once. He could sense Jaskier’s curious blue gaze on him as he went through his nightly routine, wiping down his armour and weapons. 

“What’s got you in a huff, then? Did one of the villagers get to you? More of the same mutant nonsense?” he pried.

“No.” Geralt hoped the bard would leave it at that, but when has he been known for taking a hint?

“Then what is it? First you interrupt my, err,  _ getting to know _ a new acquaintance, then you run off with nary a word. You haven’t been this churlish with me since that one time we don’t speak of.” 

“It’s nothing, Jaskier. Leave it.”

“So there is something! It wasn’t the villagers, the job went well today, so it must have been after..” A look of realization dawned on Jaskier’s face. “Wait, is this reality? With all of the things you have seen in this world, a man being with another man is the most offensive?”

“Hardly.” 

“Then what is it?” Jaskier practically yelled in exasperation.

Geralt continued to avoid his gaze, paying undue attention to the leather in his hands. The heat in his cheeks must have given something away, however, because he heard Jaskier’s huff of amusement before the bard leaned in close, much closer than usual. 

“If that’s what I do with my acquaintances you can’t imagine what I do with my friends,” he practically purred in Geralt’s ear. 

This was the final straw, and Geralt found himself pulling Jaskier into his lap and a possessive kiss. He wanted to wipe away any memory of the man from earlier, from  _ any _ man, who dared put his hands on  _ his _ bard. He felt Jaskier pause in surprise, then reciprocate with gusto once he understood this was actually happening. 

“Never thought you’d want me like this,” Jaskier panted, leaving hot kisses along Geralt’s sharp jawline with decidedly more interest than he had the stranger. “Had to find some other surly bastard to pretend was you.” 

“Hm,” was all Geralt could find in himself to reply, distracted as he was by divesting the bard of his shirt. He lifted him bodily onto one of the beds, then swiftly covered Jaskier’s body with his own bulk and manhandled him to the position he wanted.

“You know how I could tell the difference, though?” Jaskier said through pants, the wind having been knocked out of him by the force of landing on the bed. He tugged at the laces on the witcher’s pants, finally getting a hand on the alarmingly large stiff cock pressing through. 

Geralt paused in his thorough examination of the bard’s surprisingly hairy chest, alternating between biting and sucking. “How’s that?” 

“I knew you’d give it to me rough, like this,” Jaskier smirked down at him. “Putting me just where you want me.” 

“You know what I actually want?” Geralt said. “For you to finally  _ stop talking _ .” He punctuated each word with filthy roll of his hips, pressing his hard length against the bard’s straining trousers front. 

Jaskier looked like he was still about to reply, so Geralt took matters into his own hands quite literally, firmly stroking the bard’s cock and smearing the precum dotting the head. He quickly gave into his instincts and lowered his head to suck on the tip, drawing a series of curses out of the bard. 

He was distracted from his task by the thump of a vial near his hand. A quick look at the Jaskier’s heated gaze confirmed his intentions, and Geralt quickly slicked up his fingers and wasted no time probing the bard’s hole, roughly entering one finger. 

Geralt left a series of biting bruises along Jaskier’s left hip as he briskly stretched his hole, moving on to two fingers quickly. He marvelled at the whimpers he heard above him, so different from what he overheard at the tavern. He wanted to taste them, so he bent Jaskier ____ in order to kiss him deeply while still getting him ready.

“C’mon, c’mon,” Jaskier said when he was finally opening easily around three of Geralt’s thick fingers. He twisted himself, getting his knees under him and presenting. Geralt lost no time in shedding his trousers, and after a brief pause to slick himself up, he lined up at the bard’s hole. Jaskier hissed as Geralt’s thick head breached his rim, but the unforgiving hardness keep filling him until the hot length was fully buried.

“Fuck,” Geralt let out, shocked at how overwhelming the tightness, the rightness of the feeling of being so deep inside this insufferable man. He gave him a moment to adjust, but soon he gave in and was moving, fucking into the bard until he was a quivering mess of nerves. 

His left hand pushed Jaskier’s chest down to the bed, while his right gripped his hip. Using what could only be an inhumane strength, he set a punishing pace, racing toward an orgasm that would only be the beginning. 

Geralt focused his senses, thrilling in the tensing of Jaskier’s hot walls around him, the stuttering heartbeat and unfiltered moans as Jaskier took what the witcher was giving him. He could smell their combined scent, the resin fragrance that always lingered around the bard mixing with his own oil and woodsmoke. The balance of it was glorious, and he increased his speed, bringing them together over and over. 

All of a sudden, with a keen the bard came, his hole tightening around Geralt’s cock in a vice. The shock of it was enough that, despite his intentions, he roared his release, shooting hot spurts into the receptive body below him. 

When he comes back to himself, he realizes that he must have lost control of his imbued strength, as the bed has tilted alarmingly and there are bruises littering the bard’s sides.

Loathe to pull out, he lowered them on their sides to the abused mattress. Jaskier was still getting his breath, from the labored sounds and shivering limbs.

“Rest,” Geralt tried to command, but his hand soothing down the bard’s side betrayed his strange feelings. 

Half asleep already, Jaskier just hummed noncommittally, closing his eyes. 

Geralt knew he should pull out and clean them both up. But for now, he stayed in bed, basking in the feeling of possession and, somehow, inevitability. 


End file.
